Truly Married (22 page)

That had been a mistake, and he’d paid dearly for it.

He couldn’t tell Sharon because it would be disrespectful to Elaine, but Elaine had never catapulted him to the glorious heights that Sharon always did. Sharon was fire. Elaine had been compliance.

“All right, Sharon,” he said wearily. “If that’s the way you want it I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Fergus, I...I didn’t mean—”

Belatedly he noticed that her expression had softened again, and she sounded uncertain. “No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “Besides, you’re right. It’s not a good idea for an attorney to sleep with his client. It puts too much pressure on both of them—the lawyer to win at all costs and the client to keep him satisfied so he’ll feel obligated.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she protested.

He managed a tight smile. “I know, but it’s the truth all the same. Don’t worry, I won’t seduce you against your will.”

She uttered a little cry, and then she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. Immediately his knees parted and she moved between his legs.

“I never thought you would,” she said brokenly as she put her arms around him and laid her face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so bitchy.”

His willpower totally shot, he engulfed her in his hungry arms and held her against him. She was so soft and cuddly, and in spite of their marathon lovemaking earlier he could feel himself straining against his jeans again.

Obviously there was no limit to his virility where she was concerned. They were going to have to lay some ground rules in order to protect his sanity if he had to abide by her edict.

Reluctantly he put his hands on either side of her rib cage and moved her back away from him. “Sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but if we’re going to live together like brother and sister, then we’re both going to have to exercise a little restraint.” His voice sounded gritty. “No more touching, or hugging, or kissing....”

Damn! Just the thought of doing those things with her made his mouth water and his voice break.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I have limited control when it comes to you, and I can only guarantee it so far.”

She looked stricken. “I’m sorry,” she said, and got to her feet. “I wasn’t thinking....”

“Neither was I,” he confessed, “but that’s the problem. I’ve never been able to think straight when I’m with you. From now on we’re just attorney and client, okay?”

Like hell!
his unruly conscience screamed. He was glad she couldn’t hear it.

* * *

Two days later Sharon started her period, but instead of being relieved that she wasn’t pregnant she felt a disappointment so sharp that, much to her dismay, she broke down and cried when she told Fergus. Fortunately he misunderstood and thought her tears were from relief.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said as he broke his own rule against touching and took her in his arms. “It’s over now and you don’t have to worry anymore. I’m so sorry that I put you through this added suspense. It was selfish and inexcusable of me.”

She wanted to protest. To tell him the real reason she was so upset. But it would only confuse him even more. How could she explain that she’d welcome his baby, even though she wouldn’t marry him and be a family?

Except for that episode, Fergus and Sharon spent the rest of the week striving to maintain a polite distance. A struggle that became more difficult every day as the magnetic tension between them continued to build.

Fergus and Ray spent most of the time going over police reports and tracking down leads that usually led nowhere. Sharon was able to help by supplying background on the employees of the hotel and providing tidbits of office gossip that might be useful. She also contacted her doctor and got a prescription for birth-control pills, just in case.

Then, on Monday, Fergus was summoned back to Chicago to take care of more of his neglected business there. The phone call came in midmorning and left him shaken and frustrated.

“I had no idea this trial date would be moved up,” he said as he told Sharon about it, “and I have to appear. There’s no way I can get out of it.”

Sharon’s heart sank, and the fear she’d managed to temporarily push back returned full force. He couldn’t go to Chicago. She needed him here. How could he prove her innocent if he was off in another state defending someone else?

Before she could pull herself together and say something, he continued, “Come with me, honey. Under the circumstances I’m almost sure I can get the judge’s permission to take you out of this court’s jurisdiction. You’re in my custody, and I have urgent business in Illinois.”

For just a moment she let herself dream of going back to Chicago with him, living with him alone in his apartment....

That’s where the fantasy stopped and reality set in.

“I—I’d like to,” she stammered, “but that would be most unwise. Not only would it look bad, but before long we’d be playing house and making believe it could last forever.”

Fergus scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “And what’s so wrong about that? There’s always the possibility that it
could
last forever if we’d only give it a chance.”

She shook her head. “That’s a gamble I’m not ready to take. Right now I’ve got all I can handle with my own trial coming up in less than two months.”

His scowl disappeared. “I know. That’s why I’d like to take you away from here for a while. We can always waive your request for an early trial, you know.”

Sharon shivered. “No. I couldn’t stand more than two months of this waiting, not being able to plan for the future. Not even knowing if I have a future.”

In the end Fergus drove off alone, but not before he’d kissed her goodbye. A kiss that melted her bones, and, if it had lasted a second longer, would also have melted her resolve not to go with him. As she watched him leave it was all she could do not to run after him, beg him to take her along and damn the consequences.

With Fergus gone, Ray continued their investigation and reported to her each evening. After a couple of days he suggested that she come into his office and handle the paperwork and phone calls regarding her case, thus freeing his secretary to fulfill her duties for the fledgling law practice he was building.

Sharon was delighted. It gave her something to do instead of just sitting around going out of her mind with worry and loneliness. It also gave her the opportunity to be in on everything that was happening.

However, on the down side, she could see how little progress they were actually making. Whoever had come into Vancleave’s office through the sliding-glass door and killed him while she was gone must have been invisible. They’d tracked down and talked to a number of guests who had been in the pool area at that time, but none of them had been paying attention to anything but their own pursuits, either in the water or lounging poolside.

In fact, only two of them had even noticed there was a door other than the main exit leading to the area.

The brightest spot of Sharon’s days was Fergus’s evening phone call. He never missed a day, and she eagerly looked forward to them. On Wednesday of the week after he’d left St. Louis, he told her that the prosecutor had rested his case and the defense would start presenting theirs the following day. “The D.A. didn’t have anything we can’t counter,” he said optimistically. “I expect a verdict of innocence sometime next week.”

That cheered her immensely. “Oh, I hope so. We’re sort of at a standstill here, and I... That is we... Ray and I... We’ve missed you.”

He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “I miss you, too, love, and I don’t mean you and Ray. Just you. The sweet image of you haunts me during the day and torments me at night.”

Her whole body tingled with pleasure, even as she chided herself for not having more control over her feelings. How could she love him so completely, when she knew he was incapable of making a lifetime commitment to just one woman? She was letting him sweet-talk her into getting her heart broken again.

* * *

Sharon slept badly that night, and the next morning she decided not to go to Ray’s office as she usually did. He was scheduled to be in court all day, and the inaction of sitting behind a desk, reading reports and taking and making phone calls, was getting to her. Going over the same material day after day was not only frustrating and boring, but it was turning her mind to mush.

It was the first week in July, and she needed to get out in the warm sunshine and fresh air to release some of her pent-up energy. She also needed to take an active part in tracking down Floyd Vancleave’s killer instead of just following up on leads someone else had provided.

With this in mind she decided to drive over to the neighborhood where the Vancleaves lived. She’d been in their home a couple of times when they’d hosted barbecues in their big backyard for the people Floyd worked with. It wouldn’t hurt to scout around, maybe talk to some of the neighbors and try to find out how they felt about Floyd and Helen.

It was midmorning when Sharon parked her car at the curb a block away from the Vancleaves’ house. She’d brought Anna’s golden retriever, Viking, along for the exercise, and they got out and started walking. She had him on a leash, and he bounded happily ahead of her.

It was a beautiful day, pleasantly warm, but with a promise of uncomfortable heat later. She was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blouse, and walked on the sunny side of the street in the hope of improving her tan. The air was redolent with the scent of flowers and newly cut grass, and a slight breeze fanned her bare arms and legs and gently tousled her hair.

The homes and lawns were all well kept, and from the people she observed coming and going it was evident that the neighborhood included a mixture of young families and senior citizens. Bringing the dog was a stroke of genius. He served as a conversation piece, and people stopped her to comment on him. An elderly gentleman in one yard abandoned his lawn mower to pet the dog, and farther along she stopped to chat with a mother whose two little girls wanted to play with him.

She learned from them that the Vancleaves seldom socialized with their neighbors except to wave or nod in passing.

As she neared the Vancleaves’ place she noticed an older woman crouched on the grass, weeding her flower bed right next door. Great. Sharon was especially eager to query the close neighbors, and it would be far better if it could be a casual meeting rather than having to knock on the door and ask if the occupant would answer questions.

She crossed the street, then sauntered along as if she had nothing on her mind but giving her dog an outing. When they drew near, the woman looked up and smiled.

“My, what a beautiful dog,” she said. “Frisky, too.”

Sharon chuckled. “Oh yes, he’s frisky all right. Nearly yanks my arm out of the socket when he sees a squirrel.”

Sharon surreptitiously lengthened her hold on the leash so Viking could romp farther afield, and he headed for the woman, his tail wagging furiously with excitement. She reached out and petted him, while Sharon restrained him far enough away so he couldn’t jump on her and knock her over.

“My late husband used to have a retriever just like this one,” she said as she got to her feet. “He was a great hunting dog, but frisky, like yours. The man next door—” she nodded toward the Vancleave home “—put up such a fuss about his barking that we finally had to sell him to keep the peace.” Her expression hardened. “Floyd Vancleave was an offensive man,” she muttered, more to herself than to Sharon. “I’m not surprised that someone killed him.”

Sharon’s heart raced. So he wasn’t liked by the neighbors closest to him. That information could open up a whole new line of inquiry, but she’d have to be careful not to seem too nosy.

“Oh, are you talking about the man who was murdered recently in that hotel downtown?” she asked, striving for just the right tone of casual interest.

“Yes.” The woman rolled her eyes. “My, that really stirred things up around here. This is usually a very quiet neighborhood, but for a few days there it was overrun with reporters and police. It’s calmed down again now, though.”

That figured, Sharon thought. The police were so sure she was guilty that they didn’t bother looking for any other suspects.

“His poor wife must be grief-stricken by the loss of her husband,” Sharon said sympathetically, hoping it would encourage the woman to open up and gossip.

“I doubt it.” The neighbor’s tone was cryptic. “He slapped her around a lot.”

Sharon’s eyes widened with surprise and excitement. This could be a real breakthrough. “No! Really? Did she report it to the police?”

The other woman shook her head. “No, but I did a couple of times. I was afraid he’d kill her. I could hear him clear over here, yelling and throwing things. He was a real bully.”

Sharon could hardly contain herself. “Was he arrested?” She’d worked with Floyd for several years, and although he was a jerk, she’d never had any indication that he was a wife beater.

Again the neighbor shook her head, this time with a great deal of agitation. “That silly woman wouldn’t press charges. She always said she’d fallen or run into something. I gave up after the second time. He told me to mind my own business, and truth to tell, I was afraid of him.”

As soon as she could without arousing suspicion, Sharon excused herself and hurried back to her car. She was eager to tell Ray what she’d learned. She’d call Fergus, too. At the least this information put a new slant on the mystery.

Although she hadn’t known Helen Vancleave well she had noticed that Floyd’s wife was unusually withdrawn and quiet, not at all outgoing. On the other hand, Floyd was brash, loud and always hogging the spotlight. She remembered thinking that Helen and Floyd were such different personalities that she wondered what they could possibly have in common.

As soon as Sharon got home she gave Viking a couple of the special doggie biscuits Anna kept on hand to reward him when he’d done something especially clever. He’d certainly earned it today. Then she called Ray’s office, but he was still in court. Since it was almost time to adjourn for lunch, she left a message with his secretary, asking him to meet her as soon as possible at a popular restaurant near the courthouse that had both good food and fast service.